


The Start of Something New

by ladyoneill



Category: RED (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: At a wedding, watching the bride and groom dance, Victoria is approached by a crashing Han who has found something that changes her world and sets them both on the path of payback.





	The Start of Something New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/gifts).



> This is pretty gen but kind of pre-relationship as they both admire each other. I made up my own backstory for Victoria. I may expand on this some day as the idea intrigues me. I hope you like it!

"Introducing Frank and Sarah Moses!"

As the music started and Sarah swung Frank into a waltz, her white satin skirt swirling around her legs and her eyes glistening with happy tears, Victoria took a sip of her champagne and smiled. This was good. After a career of assassinations, military intrigue, and spying on everyone and their neighbor, Frank deserved a happy ending.

And Sarah was perfect for him. She kept him from becoming bored. A bored Frank was never a good thing.

As the happy couple danced, Victoria caught a glimpse of Marvin slinking around behind the decorative columns and trying to blend with the floral arrangements, and rolled her eyes.

Frank may have been saved, but there was no hope for Marvin.

Chuckling to herself, she ran her eyes over the other guests--a few friends and family of Sarah's, a few surviving former colleagues of Frank, half a dozen CIA Agents, four former KGB, oh, and look, Shira from the Mossad. She hadn't seen her in nearly a decade.

Victoria was considering how to approach her former friend, current...well, who knew...when someone stepped behind her and made her pause and lower the glass she'd just lifted to her mouth.

"I highly doubt you were on the guest list," she murmured, her free hand slipping surreptitiously into the pocket of her dark red silk dress for the gun she carried.

A low chuckle sounded and she spun, gun out and pointed at a firm, toned stomach covered in a gray Armani double breasted suit and a fine, pale blue Egyptian cotton shirt.

Han's eyes slid down to the gun and he smiled. "A derringer? That will barely tickle me."

Victoria dropped the gun lower, aiming at his groin. "I think it'll do more than tickle there."

Rolling his eyes, he reached down and took her wrist, lifting her hand back up to press the end of the gun barrel to his stomach. "Trust you to come armed to a wedding."

"Please," she scoffed. "You have a nine mil in your shoulder harness and knives strapped to both wrists."

Han shrugged.

"If you're here to cause trouble for Frank and Sarah..."

"No, though he still owes me three million dollars and new plane."

"You have a new plane," she retorted.

"It's the principle."

Victoria rolled her eyes and repocketed her gun. "What do you want?"

"I actually came to see you. When I heard on the grapevine that Moses was getting married, I knew you'd be here. You're a hard woman to find."

"The British government wants to kill me. I can't exactly live in peaceful retirement anymore."

"Admit it, you found that very dull."

"Get to the point, Han," she snapped.

His face grew serious and he held his hands up, then pointed at his breast pocket. "I'm going to take a piece of paper out slowly." At her reluctant nod, he did so and handed it to her. As her eyes lowered to it, the glass dropped from her other hand, spilling over the grass.

The paper was old and yellowed, the edges burnt, the fine printing faded in places, but the picture at the top was clear, the smiling man so familiar. 

When she'd been forced into hiding a year ago, she'd had to leave behind the few pictures she had of him.

"Jonathan," she murmured, nearly choking on his name.

Jonathan Winslow, the man she'd married nearly forty years ago, after her heart had broken over Ivan and being forced to choose between love and country.

Jonathan, whom she had come to love deeply, only to be devastated when he'd disappeared five years into what had become a solid and happy marriage. After a year spent searching for him, Victoria had been forced to set it aside, and had thrown herself even deeper into her work, becoming one of Great Britain's top assassins for a dozen years before being pushed into retirement because she'd become just too good.

As she skimmed over the words written in his still familiar hand, tears stung her eyes, and she barely felt the hand on her elbow guiding her to a secluded table. Around her couples danced, people laughed, the music swelled, but all she felt was her heart breaking again.

She let Han sit her down, the spy in her noting he joined her, his hand still on her arm, now sliding to her wrist. Aware of everything around her, she let the tears dry up, let the cold anger come.

"Every scenario I went over, examined and investigated, I never gave serious thought to my own government taking him from me."

Why? Why would they have done that? She'd never told anyone of their plans for her early retirement, for a family and a life of quiet and peace. She'd known better than to let anyone know any of that.

But...the government had suspected anyway. That was obvious from Jonathan's terse statements. They'd stolen him away, hidden him from her, kept the truth from her, all to turn her into the perfect assassin.

"Where is he?" she bit out, looking up from the paper to meet Han's eyes.

The surprising compassion on his face, both hardened her heart and made it stutter in pain.

"His remains were found a couple months ago on an unnamed island in the South Pacific. DNA tests that revealed his identity came in a few days ago, but it was determined he was killed in 1984. Analysis of the paper shows it was written around that same time. It was discovered hidden beneath the floorboards of the building in which he was found. There's no way of knowing if they always meant to kill him, or if they discovered he'd written to you, perhaps had a way to get the letter to you."

He said it matter-of-factly, and she appreciated his candor. While they didn't know each other that well, he understood that she would never blame herself.

Victoria set down the letter, her fingers lingering over the picture attached to it, wondering when it had been taken, and if Jonathan had been the one to place it with the letter. The paperclip holding it was rusty, staining the faded Polaroid.

"How did you get involved?" Her voice was even but her hand was trembling slightly, the only sign betraying her emotions.

"I was the one who found him," Han replied softly. "The island was deserted. I was looking for...well, that's unimportant. I believed no one had been there since the second world war. I didn't find what I was looking for, but I did find him. After his body was removed, the building was searched and the letter was discovered. There were no names, and the picture wasn't in any databases."

"They erased him. I knew someone had." Lifting her eyes from her husband, she met Han's. "How did you connect him to me."

"With difficulty, but it was a mystery I was determined to solve, so I called in some favors." His voice was blase, but she could hear the slight tension, and stiffened.

"What do I owe you?"

"Nothing." Han nodded towards the dance floor. "Moses owes me three million..."

"And a plane, I know," she interrupted tightly. "Tell me."

Han's fingers circled her wrist and lifted her hand. Bending slightly, his lips brushed the back. "I want to help you find whomever killed him, well, the people behind the murder. The governments of this world play with our lives as if we were nothing. I had enough of it and quit the CIA."

"You were forced out."

"Semantics." He smirked, his thumb rubbing the pulse in her wrist. "I still want pay back. Don't you?"

Victoria didn't need to think about it. Eyes narrowing, she gave him a tight nod. "For too much. This is just the tip of a very large iceberg. We gave everything to our countries, sacrificed all but our lives, and they treated us like dirt and forced us into retirement and hiding. Perhaps it's time they found out what Red really means."

Han smiled nastily. "A woman after my own heart."

Finding her footing again, Victoria freed her hand and used it to pat his cheek, her lingering fingers belying her words. "I'm old enough to be your mother."

"An extremely competent woman with a gun does interesting things to me."

She snorted, then nodded to the still dancing newlyweds. "We keep them out of it, at least until after their honeymoon."

"Moses knew I was here about the same time you did."

"And I'll lie to him as to why. I'm very good at that."

"The best," Han acknowledged, then rose. When she grabbed his hand, he bowed and kissed it. "You lie to them. I'll be at the Waverley, the penthouse suite."

"Not exactly inconspicuous."

"I like the finer things." His appreciative eyes would have made any other woman blush, but Victoria was always in complete control. As Han turned and strolled towards the happy couple, she appreciated the fine cut of his trousers and what they contained.

This was going to be interesting.

And the world's governments were going to pay.

End


End file.
